


Camping

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Unnatural Writers [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6162075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough hunt, TFW goes camping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Destiel

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide if I liked the Destiel version or the Sabriel version more, so have both!

“Son of a bitch!”

Cas looks up in concern from where he is- very carefully- breaking a graham cracker in half to where Dean is sitting beside him. The green-eyed man is glaring at this marshmallow-less roasting stick.

“It appears you allowed your marshmallow to cook too long,” Cas observes, spotting the fallen treat next to one of the burning logs.

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbles, watching as Sam pulls a perfectly cooked marshmallow from the fire and slides it onto a graham cracker. “Why did we think camping was a good idea?”

“It was your idea,” Sam calmly points out.

“Yeah, well, it’s a stupid idea.” With that, Dean thrusts his roasting stick into the fire and stomps away. Cas hears the door to the tent open and close, the zipper loud in the quiet night.

“Leave him alone,” Sam sighs when Cas moves to follow his boyfriend. “He’s just frustrated after this last hunt.”

It doesn’t surprise the ex-Angel. The hunt was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, but the ghost in question was targeting a specific family. While Sam was in charge of protecting the last remaining family members, a pair of siblings, Dean and Cas were tasked with burning the bones. Due to unexpected traffic and underestimating the power of the ghost, they were almost too late. As is, the girl was killed and the boy seriously injured. The youth was delivered to the hospital and the doctor informed the hunter that he would be fine, but that hasn’t stopped Dean from blaming himself.

They’d planned the camping trip before the hunt and Sam wouldn’t let Dean cancel. The elder Winchester has been in a foul mood most of the day. Cas decides to let him be for now.

XXXXXX

About fifteen minutes later, Cas crawls into the tent. Dean is in their big two-person sleeping back with his back to the door.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs. He lays down on top of the bag, spooning up behind the sulking man. He reaches around to offer Dean what he brought into the tent with him. “Would you like a s’more?”

Dean is still a moment. Then he lifts his head and takes a bite of the messy treat. He drops his head back onto the pillow and rolls onto his back. There is marshmallow and chocolate on his lips. Cas is happy to help clean that up.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says softly when Cas pulls back. “Sorry I’m not very good company.”

“You have every right to be upset,” Cas says while feeding Dean the rest of the s’more. “But, Dean, there was nothing else you could have done. You could not have predicted the traffic, nor how powerful the ghost had become.”

“You and Sammy got hurt,” Dean mumbles, turning his face into Cas’ chest.

“But we’re okay. Bruised and sore, but we sustained no major injuries and we will be back to full health in a week or so.”

“I couldn’t save her.”

There it is.

“None of us could,” Cas whispers. “But that doesn’t mean we didn’t do our best and we didn’t do a good job. Think of the boy. We did save him- you saved him.”

Dean sniffs and one arm slips around Cas’ waist to hold the dark-haired man closer. He’s not crying, but it’s a near thing. Cas knows Dean would be embarrassed if he were to mention anything, so he stays quiet and strokes his lover’s hair.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says finally, pulling back a little.

“Anything for you.” Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much. I want another s’more.”

Cas chuckles. “Of course.”


	2. Sabriel

Gabe winces as he watches Sam’s third marshmallow catch fire and melt right off the end of his roasting stick. Dean looks like he’s going to make a comment. A glare from Cas shuts him up. Gabe lifts a hand to snap, but Sam shakes his head.

“Don’t bother,” he sighs, driving his roasting stick into the fire and leaving the ring of light.

Gabe hears the zipper of the tent door, loud in the silence of the night. He considers following, but an idea sparks. He decides to let Sam pout for a bit.

Granted, the big man has every right to. The last hunt the boys went on didn’t go so well. What was supposed to be a simple salt and burn resulted in two beat up Winchester, a dead teenage girl, and a second girl in the hospital. Sam is blaming himself and refuses to let either of the Angels heal him. After all, it was Sam who was supposed to protect the girls while Dean burned the bones. Neither of the brothers expected how powerful the ghost was or the traffic that kept them from their respective tasks.

Gabe carefully turns a marshmallow over the fire, pushing away all thoughts of the hunt. He has a s’more to make and it’s going to be perfect.

XXXXXX

Gabe crawls awkwardly into the tent and zips the door behind him. Sam is lying with his back to the door in their big two-person sleeping bag. The Archangel tucks himself up against his boyfriend’s back.

“I have something for you,” Gabe says quietly. “I made it myself. No mojo involved.”

No response.

Gabe reaches around to hold the s’more in front of Sam’s face. “Come on, you know you want it, Samsquatch.”

“No Angel mojo?” Sam asks, rolling onto his back so he can look his lover in the eye.

“Scouts honor,” Gabe says solemnly. “Ask your brother if you want.”

Sam shakes his head. “I trust you.” He takes the s’more and eats half of it in one bite. He hums, eyes drifting shut. “Thanks, Gabe.”

“You’re welcome, Sammy-boy.”

“It’s Sam,” he corrects with an eye roll.

“Whatever you say, Sammich.”

Sam smiles, but it’s small and sad. Gabe watches as he finishes off the s’more. There’s something on his mind, Gabe knows. He also knows he can’t force it out of him.

Sam stares at the tent ceiling for a long time. Then he suddenly turns into Gabe’s chest, one strong arm tight around his waist and the other hand gripping his shirt. He’s not really crying, but his shoulders are shaking a little.

Gabe holds him the best he can with their size difference. He strokes his hair and makes soothing sounds.

“I couldn’t save her,” Sam finally mumbles.

There it is.

“Sam, you did the best you could in the circumstances. You couldn’t have possibly known how powerful the ghost had become or that you would hit that traffic.”

“If I’d just-”

“Done what? Babe, there’s nothing else you could have done.” He rolls so he’s straddling the big man’s hips and grabs Sam’s face in his hands. “Sam, this is not your fault.”

That’s all it takes. Sam breaks down, tears flooding those beautiful hazel eyes. Gabe immediately twists them around so he’s on his back with Sam in his arms. The younger hunter doesn’t cry often anymore, but this has been building for a while.

“That’s it,” Gabe murmurs. “Get it all out.”

Sam sobs for a long while. When the tears stop, he stays in Gabe’s arms, just holding on.

“Can… can I have another s’more?” he says, soft and hopeful.

“Of course. I’ll go make it.”

Sam shakes his head and his grip tightens. “No, stay. You can use your powers. Just… stay.”

Gabe smiles and snaps his fingers.


End file.
